Out of Sync or RoboSam
by Enkidu07
Summary: hurt!Dean.  Season 6!Sam tending to Dean's injuries.  The brothers are a little out of sync.  Companion to sidjack's story along a similar, okay, identical, theme.
1. RoboSam

**Title**: Out of Sync or RoboSam  
**Author**: Enkidu07  
**Disclaimer**: These characters do not belong to me. Not even all of these words belong to me. I have been pilfering them off of sidjack all evening.  
**Spoiler Warnings**: Spoilers for Season 6!Sam.  
**A/N**: So, it had to be done, really. Robo!Sam tending to hurt!Dean. Considering Steady!Sam rocks my socks on a regular basis, I had to play with Steady-To-The-Extreme!Sam. And, I may not be done. After talking with sidjack, there is just so much more to explore. For the time being, we have both put forth a h/c scene that involves hurt!Dean and a rather emotionally lacking Sam. Just to see if we could float the h without the c. And, if you check out sidjack's story, you may see a reoccurring theme or two. Really, it's her fault for letting me read her story before writing my own... that's a legit excuse for plagiarism, right? Thanks for letting me hoard in on some of your imagery, sidjack, and thanks for the beta!

* * *

As a team they kind of suck right now.

Dean gets that. And it's probably mostly his fault, but he doesn't trust Sam and stupidly divides his attention between the prey and his brother. Not a good strategy in their line of work. When the dryad strikes, Dean's not ready and takes a slash along his ribs. He grunts, hits his knees, and then woozily watches as Sam mechanically destroys the beast.

Dean keeps pressure on his side while Sam burns the creature in the fading light. Sam leans carelessly close to the pungent fire, using the flames to sterilize his blade.

Seemingly satisfied, Sam shrugs out of his jacket revealing a cut along his lower arm. He impassively wraps a handkerchief around his wound and then turns to Dean and wraps his jacket around Dean's torso, pulling it unnecessarily tight.

* * *

Back at the hotel room, Sam makes quick work of his forearm, appears nonplussed at the blood dripping off his fingertips.

When he turns his flat eyes on Dean, Dean's feels himself reflexively retreat.

Dean gets a hand up to stymie Sam's approach.

"Let me see."

Dean swallows, heart racing. "It's fine."

"Dean, blood's seeping through your shirt." Sam voice is curt, no trace of his cajoling little brother.

Dean unsteadily lifts his arm away from his body to check, grimacing at the pull along his ribs. He can see blood permeating the jacket.

"Lift up."

To Sam's credit, he's gentle as he loosens the knot and pulls the material away. He waits while Dean peels his shirt off. Once bare, Sam grabs his bicep and pulls his arm out of the way to get a look at Dean's side. Sam's sigh isn't comforting.

"Doesn't look like it goes to bone, but it'll need stitches. You want me to do it?"

_Not really_. Dean angles himself awkwardly to try to see the slash around his torso. He thinks hard. "I don't think I can reach."

A practical, flat "Lay down, Dean," and he's on his left side facing the wall.

* * *

Stretched on his side, Dean feels vulnerable. As Sam's fingers alight on his rib cage, he flinches, fists seeking purchase in the threadbare covers.

"Hold still, Dean."

"Yeah."

He flinches again when Sam pours warm water over the wound, breath hitching.

"It's just water. I need to flush it out before I stitch it." Dean aims his gaze down his side and watches as Sam pulls apart the edges of the wound, flushing it deeper. Sam's face is a mask of professional apathy. Nausea washes over Dean and he turns his face into the pillow, stomach muscles twitching.

"Are you going to be sick?"

Dean roughly shakes his head. Then swallows sickly as he feels Sam's fingers probing the wound. "Dude, stop."

He can hear the irritation in Sam's voice, "I need to see how deep it is. "

"Well, your seeing hurts." Dean's voice is practically gone. He clears his throat.

Sam awkwardly pats Dean's shoulder. When Dean looks up, Sam's expression is twisted into a facsimile of brotherly concern. It makes him feel worse.

"Forget it, just do it."

Sam huffs and sits back. He reaches for the antiseptic and Dean turns his face back into the pillow. "Do you want me to numb it?"

Dean shrugs, "Do whatever you want, Sam."

Seconds later, the cool rush of antiseptic flushes over his side, followed by the acidic burn of the disinfectant. Dean jolts as the fire blazes, reflexively pulling away from the bite.

"Dean, stay still." Sam's cavalier attitude stings more than the wound. He bites the pillow. Hard. Blinks against tears. Lets Sam pull him back across the mattress. Sam's hand stays on his hip, almost tight enough to bruise. Dean fights against pulling away.

The jab of the needle is almost lost in the residual sting. Dean steels himself for the sutures but they don't come and Sam's hand doesn't relax. He finally grates out, "Sam?"

"Hold on. I numbed it. It'll feel better in a second." The hand around his hips squeezes tighter. It feels almost like a clumsy attempt to ground him.

* * *

Dean searches Sam's eyes while they wait. Keeps looking for his brother.


	2. Fall Out

This part is actually sidjack's fault. Just saying. Also, she requested the removal of stitches. This is what happened instead. Hopefully the final chapter will see her dream realized :)

* * *

There's a hunt in Tucson. Might be an alpha and Sam's driven, especially now that he doesn't have to hide his… _abilities_ from Dean.

He doesn't rest, hasn't even touched the bed, and Dean can't help but notice that his arm heals up crazy fast. Two days in, amidst a marathon research session, Dean catches him tugging the stitches out with his teeth.

"Dude. Sanitary."

Sam looks up, surprised, eyes hazy from staring at the screen for nine hours. He glances back at his arm with a befuddled expression. Then he turns a critical eye on Dean, "How's your side?"

"Awesome. Thanks for asking." _After two days._ "Maybe you can chew out the sutures later."

Sam huffs, shoves the laptop aside. "Let me see."

"No. It's fine. It's healing." It's red. Sore as hell. Dean can feel it throb with his heartbeat.

"Yeah?" Sam's clinical stare scans his torso as if he can see through Dean's shirt. Dean crosses his arms over his chest.

"Yeah." Dean flips a page, focuses on the text in his lap until Sam finally turns back to his computer.

* * *

The arid heat of the desert has sucked all of the moisture out of Dean's body. He's parched, earlier circles of sweat have dried, leaving crusty stains around his collar and armpits. They've tracked the Afrit through the dunes and now just need to catch it emerging from its sandy den at dusk.

"It's fucking cold out here," Dean complains. The chill is harsh as the sun falls lower in the sky.

Sam makes a noncommittal noise. Fucker hadn't even broken a sweat during the heat of the day, no wonder he's not crusty and uncomfortable now.

Dean turns his attention back to the den. The sand shimmers. The setting sun sets patterns dancing along the crest. Dean stands up to get a closer look, mesmerized by the glow.

"Dean!" Sam hisses beside him. "Get down."

Dean drops to his knees, makes a face, mumbles, "I was just looking."

Sam's annoyed expression wavers like the dancing dunes.

"Sam." Dean doesn't even realize he's falling until he's attempting to push the gritty sand out of his mouth with his tongue. He mostly succeeds in pulling more in. His limbs don't seem to want to cooperate so he shifts his attention to the pleasant warmth leeching from the desert floor.

* * *

The smell of hospital wakes him.

The soreness in his side has sharpened and he shifts uncomfortably, rustling the plastic sheet. He's hot. Feels like he's still in the blazing sun. His body aches all over and he can feel the sand itching on the side of his face.

"It's infected." Sam's impassive voice starts a dull throb in his temple.

Another acute twinge in his side and Dean finally screws open one eye. At the next jab, he pulls away breathlessly and the doctor pauses in his ministrations. "I'm Dr. Thomas, Dean. Your brother's right, your wound's infected. Let me clean it and we'll get you started on some antibiotics."

Dean lets his arm fall across his face.

Sam's irritation chases him as he gives in to exhaustion and pain, "What were you thinking? I need to know I can trust you to take care of yourself, Dean."

_Take care of himself. _

He did that once without Sam, right? Surely he can remember how.


	3. One day at a time

Final part. The stitches have to come out. This one's for sidjack. Thanks for the inspiration and the beta and the delicious ideas, lady!

* * *

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Sam's tone is battered.

Dean flicks his eyes to Sam's face in the bathroom mirror. "I'm pulling these stitches out. So?"

"So. I can help you."

"I got it."

"Dean, you can't even reach. Ow. Stop."

"I got it, Sam." Dean's wince belies his confident tone.

"You're making it all red."

"They gotta come out."

"You need to pull them out straight."

"I'm _trying_. It's hard to reach."

"So, I can help you." Sam's tone is quiet, his face sincere as he stares at Dean's reflection.

Dean looks at Sam in the mirror again. Holds his gaze. Then sighs and drops his hands to the sink. "Fine."

Sam moves in slowly, pushes Dean's bicep forward, tilts his head to get a better look.

The first brush of his fingers has Dean jerking forward and gripping the sink tight. "Don't tickle," he barks.

When Dean looks up, Sam's grinning. "Sorry."

Sam's next touch is firmer, braces Dean's side.

Dean steals glances at Sam's reflection as he works. Sam squints in concentration as he focuses on his task. He inhales sympathetically whenever Dean flinches, moves more gently.

Sam's eyes flick up, catching his gaze before Dean can look away. Dean holds it for a second, searching, before looking back at the tile.

"All done." Sam's hands fall away. There's no playful slap at the healed skin.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Uh… thanks."

"Yeah. No problem." Sam doesn't move. "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"I still want to be your brother."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

Dean breathes deep and looks at Sam hard. A minute ticks by. Sam's gaze doesn't waver. Dean digs deep. "Okay. Yeah. Now, move bitch."

Sam grins.

Dean pulls his t-shirt over his head. Vows to take it one day at a time.

* * *

end.


End file.
